Thread by @robofingering

Hank talks himself out of sending the message a half-dozen times, deleting it as soon as he's finished writing it out. Connor just saved the fucking day, he thinks. He's celebrating, or planning what comes next. He's with his people. He doesn't want to hear from me.
Still,

he thinks about the brief moment they shared before Connor departed the tower with a small army of newly-deviated androids to meet with Markus and his followers. Everything was moving so quickly, and they'd only had a minute together, as Hank caught his breath and tried not to

look at the RK800 sprawled out silent and still on the ground. He wasn't Connor, Hank had figured that out too late, but it made him feel ill to see someone with Connor's face lying dead on the floor.
"Try and stay alive out there, huh?" Hank had said, with a sincerity he hadn't

known he still possessed. He'd wanted to reach out and grab Connor's hand, pat him on the shoulder, *something,* but he still felt shaken and awkward after his experience with the other RK800, and he'd let the moment pass by.
"I will, Hank," Connor'd said, seeming pleased to hear

it. "And I'll--I'll see you again. Afterwards."
And then he was gone.

Hank tells himself Connor didn't truly mean he wanted to see him. He was being polite. Hank had been an asshole at best for much of the investigation.
Perhaps that's part of why he wants to reach out.

He understood far too late that he'd been wrong about androids. About Connor.
He'd had far too little sleep and far too much to drink the night before, after he'd gotten home, so he figures he can blame the message he finally sends on his exhaustion and hangover if Connor's

annoyed he tried to get in touch.
>I saw the news, congrats
>hope you're safe
He's surprised by how quickly he gets a response.
>>It's good to hear from you, Hank. I'm unharmed.
Unharmed is good, Hank thinks. It's odd phrasing, though, and Connor chooses his words carefully, as a

general rule.
>everything ok?
>>I'm fine, thank you. I left Hart Plaza after the demonstration was successful. The few people still on the streets seeking to harm androids are easily avoided, now that peace has been officially established.
>you're just wandering the streets by

yourself?
>>Yes. I wasn't sure I should remain with Markus and the others, given my initial function.
Hank stares at his phone for another long minute before he types another question and tentatively hits send.
>do you want company?
It takes a little longer for the response to

come through, this time.
>>I'd like that very much.
Connor sends over a map link with his current location marked on it.
>>I'm near the Chicken Feed, could you meet me there?
>sure thing, I'll be there in ten minutes
It's closer to twenty, because no one's been out to plow the

roads and Hank takes a couple detours to avoid anything that looks like a checkpoint, but the lot in front of Chicken Feed's empty when he pulls up. He steps out of his car so he'll be able to see Connor when (if) he shows up, and paces back and forth to keep warm.
The squeak and

crunch of his shoes in the fresh snow mask the sound of Connor's approach, at first, but eventually he hears the echo of his own steps and turns to see Connor striding across the lot towards him.
He doesn't wait for Connor to make his way over. Something in the small,

vulnerable smile on Connor's face calls to him, pulls him in Connor's direction before he makes the conscious decision to take the first step.
Hank thinks, as they draw closer to each other, that he isn't sure what to say, what to do--he hadn't thought things out this far. He

wanted to see Connor, and Connor seemed to want to see him, so he'd come.
There's a moment where Hank worries he's misjudged everything.
And then the moment breaks, as fleeting and insubstantial as a soap bubble, because it's the most natural thing in the world to open his arms

wide and pull Connor close to him. As close as he can.
Connor melts against his chest, burying his nose in the collar of Hank's coat and wrapping his arms around his back underneath it, as if he's seeking warmth. Maybe he is, Hank thinks, if he's been out in the cold all night.

"You did it," he murmurs into Connor's hair.
"We did," Connor says, as if he's still surprised by it all.
"And now you're here."
"Where else would I be?" Connor asks, weakly, and when he lifts his head to meet Hank's eyes, he can see tears threatening to fall.
"You're all right

now," Hank says, because he has no idea what else he can say. He has no idea if this is true, but he wants it to be. Connor deserves to rest.
"I'm a mess," Connor says, and now he truly is crying. Hank pets his hair and lets him cry into his coat. "Every feeling I wasn't able to

experience before, every emotion I was cut off from, is tangled up inside me and I can't understand any of it."
"Emotions are like that, yeah," Hank says. He shifts his weight awkwardly, wanting to stamp his feet to stay warm but not wanting to make Connor let go.
He's hesitant

to speak the idea that comes into his mind, as he sways in place and lets Connor wipe his tears on his collar, but he figures he's gotten himself this far by reaching out, so it can't hurt.
"Do you have somewhere to go? To, you know, stay safe and warm up?"
Connor shakes his

head. "I'm sure I can find something, but I don't have a place yet."
"You want to come to my place for now? I bet Sumo wants to see you again, and if you, uh. If you want to talk about any of what happened, I'm willing to listen."
"I think I'd like that very much, Hank," he says.

"But I'd like to stay like this for a moment longer, if you don't mind." Connor's arms tighten against Hank's back.
"If you want a hug, Connor, we can do that at home," Hank says.
"Oh." Connor says it like he hadn't expected to ever get the opportunity again.
"Yeah, and I won't

be freezing my balls off there, so if you're up for relocating..." Hank tentatively loosens his embrace, and Connor does the same. He wipes his eyes a final time with the sleeve of his own jacket.
"Thank you, Hank," he says, as they turn towards the car. "I wasn't sure you wanted

to hear from me, so I'm glad you reached out."
"Of course I did," Hank grouses, nudging Connor's shoulder with his own. He understands why Connor would have thought that; hell, he probably would have said the same, only a couple days ago.
So much had changed.
Connor had changed

something in him. He isn't sure where things have settled, or what it all means, yet. But for now he's just happy to realize he wants to understand, wants to chase these feelings, and see where they take him.
Maybe he and Connor can figure out some of their own answers together.

it's TECHNICALLY still hug day in my time zone (for 17 more minutes), so I count this a success, especially for something hammered out VERY quickly